Storm
by anonvagabond
Summary: The roaring thunder is relentless while the rain falls down hard and the strong winds knock over patio furniture. Regina doesn't mind the rain, in fact she quite enjoys rainy Saturdays that allow her to stay indoors and spend time playing board games with Henry. But Henry doesn't live with her anymore, and this isn't a rainy Saturday, it's a storm. Set in season 2.
1. Storm

The cracking sound of lightning startles her. She loses control over her faculties for a moment, letting the embroidered plate slip through her delicate fingers. The plate lands on her foot, she winces on impact as it bounces off and hits the floor, shattering into thousands of pieces. The sound has her hand gripping the collar of her shirt as she inhales deeply, telling herself to calm down.

The roaring thunder is relentless while the rain falls down hard and the strong winds knock over patio furniture. Regina doesn't mind the rain, in fact she quite enjoys rainy Saturdays that allow her to stay indoors and spend time playing board games with Henry. But Henry doesn't live with her anymore, and this isn't a rainy Saturday, it's a storm. Normally on nights like tonight, she and Henry would cuddle together until sleep took them. She's terrified of storms that aren't caused by magic, the ones that are controlled, or rather uncontrolled and just let out by the force of nature. These storms are a rare occurrence in Storybrooke and have only happened a handful of times, luckily Henry was around for the majority of them.

She was very careful not to let her own fears affect Henry, and because of that she didn't want to seek him out. She feared running to his bed when there was a storm would condition him to be afraid, so the first night there was a storm, she had settled on braving it alone. The sound of lightning and tree branches scratching against her house made her anxious. She decided to get out of bed and fetch a glass of water in the kitchen. Upon returning upstairs she figured she should go check on Henry, just to ensure everything was alright. His door was opened only an inch, she pushed it until she got a fuller view. Henry was sitting up on his bed, staring out the window with a lit flashlight in hand. He yelped when he noticed his mother standing in the doorway.

"Mommy! You scared me." he panted, mimicking his mother's mannerism by raising his hand above his heart.

"I'm sorry, baby" she cooed while slowly walking toward his bed. "Are you okay?" She asked while pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Mhmmmm." he hummed, but it was evident to Regina that he was not okay.

"Henry, it's okay to be a little scared." she reassured him. The mattress dipped down a little as she sat down next to him, bringing her hand up to his back as she began to rub small circles.

He looked up at her with widened eyes. "It is?"

She let out a little laugh. "Of course it is, sweetheart. Everyone gets a little scared sometimes, even me." she smiled before pressing another kiss into his hair.

"But, I thought I had to be brave?" he questioned.

"Being brave doesn't mean not being scared, Henry. Being brave is not letting fear control you." she explained using her motherly tone.

He nodded, but the trepidation was still there.

"Do you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?" she suggested, knowing this was as much for her as it was for him.

"Will I still be brave?" she resisted the urge to chuckle at the male ego and quickly reassured him that of course he would be brave, he's a prince, and princes are renowned for always being brave. That seemed to soothe his fears because he shut off his flashlight, laid down and turned back to look at her, waiting for her to lay down beside him. She leaned forward to put her glass down. Henry pulled the sheets back and scooted to the right, making room for her. They laid side by side until his body eventually gravitated to her, seeking comfort in her arms.

They both drifted off to sleep minutes later. That night she dreamt of running back home from the stables, drenched to the bone. Her long ebony hair was tangled and stuck to her face, her riding pants full of mud after she slipped on the ground. She trembled as she felt the ghost sensation of her mother's engagement ring collide with her face. The diamond splitting her lip open at the exact moment the lightning hit tree outside. The scene played before her like an out of body experience, blood dripping down her face, her father screaming her mother's name. She remembers her mother's widened eyes as she stared at the hand that caused her daughter harm. Her father ran toward her with a white handkerchief while her mother washed the blood of the ring with haste, lest it should stain.

And then everything went black.

It's still fairly early in the night, but Regina knows she won't get anything done, not with that storm outside. She pulls out a tall glass out of the kitchen cabinet and fills it with water before she makes her way upstairs. She stares down the hall at Henry's uninhabited room. The door is shut, its been shut since the first night he left and she'd cried herself to sleep in his bed. Passing by his room and catching a glimpse of the blue walls, comic books piled on his desk and socks scattered on the floor was too much to endure on a daily basis. She shakes her head and makes her way to her room. She slips out of her mayoral attire and into silk pajamas.

_Mommy, why are you wearing a suit to bed? _The memory brings a smile to her face as she loops in her last button. She shimmies in to bed, her back against the memory foam mattress, encased in plush sheets. Her eyes are closed but sleep evades her as her body twitches at each time lightning strikes.

An hour later she's tossed and turned so many times that her sheets are tangled and pillows have fallen to the floor. She sits up and inhales deeply. Her gaze is fixed on her door as she contemplates what to do next. She knows what's coming up is inevitable, but it makes her feel weak. Her mother might be gone but her mantra is seared into Regina's subconscious; _love is weakness_. She's tired of feeling weak, tired of doing the right thing and having it destroy her in the end, tired of the loneliness found in this hollow home, just tired. She huffs as she accepts that Cora is probably rolling in her grave at the sight of her daughter giving in so easily, but there's no use fighting off the imminent truth; she's not strong enough. She kicks off the remainder of the sheets, pushing herself off the bed and walking down the hall until she reaches his room. She stares, and stares, and stares, and she's surprised her gaze hasn't burned a hole through the door. Her hand reaches forward, coming in contact with the cool brass handle. Her touch is hesitant as she fights the war in her mind, but eventually she gives in and twists it. As she opens the door her senses are assaulted by the scent of him. She doesn't open the light or look around because there's no reason to make it more painful than it already is. She feels her way to the bed and untucks the covers, sliding in his bed and pulling them up to her chin. She knows sleep won't take her, not without her son, but his presence will keep her from thrashing around in bed.

He looks out the window and observes the way the lightning makes itself known, demanding the attention of all. For the first night since he's arrived here he feels a little unsettled. It's nothing his mom or grandparents have done, it's just-, him.

"Kid, you alright? You seem a little dazed out." Emma asks, breaking him out of his trance.

"It's nothing, I just, I don't know." He mumbles, knowing full well what he wants. He misses home. He doesn't know why, he does love living here, but tonight when there's a storm raging outside he misses his blue room, and the warmth and comfort it provided. (He knows it's not the room he misses, deep down he misses _her_, but he's not sure he's okay admitting it.)

"Remember my superpower?" The blonde quirks her eyebrow. He's attracted the attention of his grandparents as well.

He looks around at them, they all seem so concerned, and he wonders if he should leave it be, he wouldn't want to disappoint them.

"I- I miss my room." He stutters quietly, his head hanging down as he fumbles with one of the buttons on his shirt.

"You what?" His grandfather asks, none too pleased. He's trying to remain calm, that much is clear, but his face is white and his eyes are widened.

"Charming." his grandmother whispers lowly while nudging him. She turns back to Henry, a faux smile on her face, he shudders a little because it reminds him of his mom she's in mayor mode. "Are you sure? Is there something we can do here to make you more comfortable?"

Emma groans a little and Henry turns his attention toward her. She places a hand on his shoulder before speaking. "Do you miss your mom?" She asks, it's genuine, without judgement, but he's quick to turn her down.

"No! It's not that, I just, miss my room." He kicks the ground, hands in his pocket.

"Do you want me to take you there?"

"Emma!" Two cries of protest come from the other side of the room.

She turns and glares at them for a moment before looking back at Henry. "Go get your bag and I'll take you."

He climbs up the stairs slowly, not wanting to miss what Em- his mother is saying.

"It's normal." She whispers, and then his grandfather says something with the word dangerous. His grandmother gives in, saying something like she would never hurt Henry.

"But she's still angry about Cora." He protests.

"Listen." Emma snaps. "The storm outside might make him a little homesick, he's used to being in his own room. It's fine, he'll be back tomorrow."

"Henry!" She calls out.

"Just a second." He yells back as he scrambles to find his things.

The car ride is silent; Emma has her eyes on the road and doesn't say a word. He thinks it's for the best, he wouldn't even know how to explain himself if she asked. They stop in front of the house before she asks;

"Did you call her to let her know you're coming?" She eyes him carefully.

"No. Don't worry, it's not like she has anyone else there." He grimaces a little after the words leave his mouth, there's something a little unsettling about that.

"Do you have the key?"

He nods, fishing them out of his pocket and dangling then I'm front of her.

"Okay well, umm." She clears her throat. "Call me when you want me to come pick you up."

He nods, and with that he runs toward the white mansion, not wanting to get soaked. He unlocks the door carefully, trying not to make too much noise. He steps inside and it smells like home; the crisp aroma of apples and cleanliness. He didn't know just how much he missed this. He divests himself of his shoes, leaving them scattered in the hallway. His mom hates that, but he knows she won't mind this time.

The house is eerily silent, only being filled with the sounds of nature avenging itself outside. He walks up the stairs and turns left to head to his mother's room. He knows this isn't her usual bedtime, but she always goes to bed earlier than usual when the weather's like this. 

The door of her room is wide open, which surprises Henry. In all his years of life he doesn't have a single memory of his mother's door being opened. He peers in and doesn't see anyone, then again, it's dark. He flicks open the light and is met with tangled sheets and scattered pillows.

"Mom?"

Suddenly the idea occurs to him, where does his mom always go when there's a storm outside. He spins around and makes his way to his room. The door is open, but not wide enough for him to slip inside. The hinge creaks as he pushes the door. He hears shuffling.

"Hello?"

Regina. "Mom?"

"Henry? He can vaguely see her thin silhouette as she rises from the bed. "What are you doing here?" she reaches forward and turns on his bedside lamp.

The room is still dim, but he can see her tear-stained eyes, weighed down by the bags under them.He doesn't know what to answer, because he doesn't know why he's here, there's no logical explanation.

"I don't know." he sighs. "I guess I missed my room tonight."

She eyes him knowingly; the same kind of look Emma gave him earlier. Her face softens as she asks if he wants his room to himself. He shakes his head, "No, it's okay." He pauses. "You can stay."

She offers him a faint smile as closes the lamp and lays back down. He waits until she's settled in before he goes on the other side and lays next to her. Like a magnet, a force pulls him toward her as he wiggles in to her embrace, his back to her chest as her chin rests atop of his head.

"Good night, Henry." She whispers the next part lowly, so low that if he was breathing even a little bit louder he would have missed it. "I love you."

Sleep takes him minutes later.

He wakes up with the light seeping through the poorly shut blinds. The unmistakable sound of clinking and clanking of dishes comes up the stairs and fills the room. He pushes the covers off and makes his way downstairs.

His mom is tending to the stovetop when she turns around and notices him.

"Henry!" she beams. "I made you breakfast, have a seat."

The kitchen island is set, two pancakes waiting for him in his plate. He climbs atop the stool and looks up at her.

"What are your plans for today?" She asks tentatively, while placing a glass of chocolate milk in front of him. There's a slight clink as it comes in contact with the table.

She's smiling, and it's the first time in a long time that he sees her smile like that. There's something comforting about it. He's so confused because he sees his mom but he knows she's the evil queen. And he remembers lazy Saturday mornings where she made him apple pancakes and took him to the park. He has no idea how the woman before him is the woman in the book, but it doesn't matter, because she _is_.

"This doesn't mean I forgive you." He blurts out, before he has a chance to filter his words. He doesn't forgive her. He can't. She tried to kill his family.

The smile on her face drops instantly, and the faint color leaves her cheek as she stares at him. "Alright." She murmurs.

She turns to pour coffee in the mug he painted for her at 5 years old. She stays leaning against the kitchen island as he devours the fluffy pancakes before him, maple syrup staining the placemat and sticking to his fingers.

Minutes later she breaks the silence.

"Do you need me to take you to the Charming's?"

"No, mom is going to come pick me up." She grips her coffee cup a little tighter, her knuckles losing their color and turning white.

"Okay." She nods as she straightens her posture, morphing in to mayor instead of mother.

She waits until he's done eating before she brings the plate to the sink to wash. He goes upstairs to change; he still has a closet full of clothes here. When she's certain he's in his room, she puts the plate down and lets out a shaky breath. She bites down on her knuckle to keep herself from crying.

She thought they were good, that last night meant he had forgiven her. She scolds herself internally because she should have known better; he's 10 and only sees the world in black and white. That's when the realization hits her like a train; she can't win with him, no matter what she does, she will never be good enough. Her stature as mother is tainted by her sins of the past, and no matter how hard she scrubs, the blood on that stains her hands, that resides under her fingernails, will never leave.

She pulls herself together, even if it is only momentarily, when she hears him coming back down the stairs.

"Umm, Emma is outside."

"Okay. Have a nice day, Henry." She walks forward to press a goodbye kiss to his forehead, but he's already at the door putting on his shoes.

He closes the door behind him and takes another piece of her heart with him. Mother was right, love _is_ weakness, but it's also the thing that gets her out of bed in the morning.


	2. Afraid

**a/n: a separate story, set before Henry got the book**

* * *

Henry lies on the floor as he scribbles in his coloring books. Regina hates that he chooses the cold floor rather than the little desk she had made for him, but she lets it slide because the moment is too peaceful to ruin with even the mildest scolding. She sits at her desk filling in paper work. Had she known being Mayor involved this much work she might have chosen a different profession.

She looks down at her son who stares right back up at her and grins. It's almost 8pm, close to bed time but she might let him stay up just a little longer today. She doesn't know what it is, but these moments are the ones that she holds closest to her heart. The quiet normalcy of her life with Henry is all she wants, it's all she needs.

She continues to fill in her papers, stealing glances at Henry every moment she can. She looks down at the small clock at the corner of her desk and realizes its 8:15. As much as she enjoys this domestic bliss she really does need to get him to bed. She reaches forward to put her pen away without looking and unintentionally knocks over the vase at the corner of her desk with the outside of her hand. The sound of the ceramic hitting the floor has Regina flinching back and holding her hand above her racing heart as she inhales deeply.

Henry turns his head to look at the clock behind him and realizes it's 8pm. He smiles because his mother hasn't told him to go upstairs and brush his teeth yet. He looks up at her and is greeted by her warm contagious smile. He always laughs when his friends at school tell him his mother scares them. He thinks she's great. She might be a little strict, but she always lets him help her cook or garden in the backyard, and every night she tucks him in and reads him whichever story he wants.

He's pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his mother's favorite vase hitting the floor. He hears his mother yelp and looks up at her. He's expecting to see rage in her eyes, like whenever she ruins spills water at the dinner table, but the look in her eye is unfamiliar. She brings her delicate hand up to her chest; her cheeks are flushes and her eyes widened; she looks scared. He can't quite understand why. He can tell she's lost in thought; she has that empty look in her eyes he's seen before when she's not paying attention. Without hesitation he gets up and lunges toward her. She stumbles back a little, losing her balance as his weight hits her. She steadies herself and hugs him tightly.

"Mom are you okay?" he asks softly

"I'm not angry, don't worry." She smiles faintly, the flush in her cheeks starting to fade.

"I know." He answers as he squeezes her tighter.

"Why don't you go get ready for bed while I clean this mess up, okay?" she loosens herself from his grip.

"Do you want help?" he asks in vain, because he knows she would never say yes in fear that he might get cut.

"No it's alright. I'll meet you in your bed, and pick a good story."

He nods and heads upstairs to go brush his teeth and put on his Spiderman pajamas.

It's not that she's not accustomed to loud noises, because she is. She lives in a house with a young boy, sometimes there are days where loud noises is all she hears. It's this loud noise in particular that triggers her, the sound of a vase hitting the floor.

For a moment she's 18 again, backing in to her vanity trying to avoid the inevitable and she lets her hand slip causing a vase to crash. She feels a ghost sensation of an open palm colliding with her cheek and flinches. She's pulled out of her dark trance by her little prince who throws himself at her.

She looks down at his concerned face and hopes she hasn't scared him. He squeezes her tighter and the feeling of love is so overwhelming it hurts her chest. She hugs him back and then pushes him away gently and tells him to go get ready for bed.

She cleans up her mess and heads upstairs. The light in Henry's room is off which is strange, he rarely falls asleep without a story. She peers in the room and he is nowhere to be found.

He's not in the bathroom either. She calls out for him while walking toward her own room. Upon entering she sees a lump in her perfectly made bed and smiles knowingly.

She sits at the edge of the bed and rubs his shoulder.

"What are you doing in here mister? Do you not have your own bed?" she asks playfully.

He smiles and lets out a little laugh. "Can I please sleep here tonight?"

"Of course." She responds while leaning down to place a kiss on his forehead. She's not sure where this is coming from, but she won't refuse him. She only hopes it isn't because she's scared him with the vase incident, maybe he thinks she's angry. "Give me 5 minutes to get ready okay?"

She re-emerges a few minutes later and crawls in to bed next to him. He immediately shimmies backward so that he's snuggled in her side. His small cold feet hit the bottom of her leg, but she can't be bothered.

"Goodnight my little prince."

"Goodnight mom."

She wakes up later that night, still haunted by the memories that resurfaced earlier, but is comforted by the small boy tucked in to her side. She wonders if he'll ever know how many times he's pulled her out of the darkness.


End file.
